


It Could Happen to You

by Chiyume



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Bliss, M/M, Nat is just as bad, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sam is the best worst friend, Sappy super grandpas, Slow Dancing, Til the End of the Line, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Rings, everyone is happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-04 11:19:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10989858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiyume/pseuds/Chiyume
Summary: Who would have thought it, back in Steve’s drafty old kitchen, with the blinds pulled way down and the lights turned low, that one day, they would actually get to do this the proper way?





	It Could Happen to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NurseDarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/gifts).



> A birthday gift for the lovely [Nursedarry](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry) who will probably yell at me for not having let her beta this fic before posting it XD  
> Don't worry, love, the wonderful [Kajmere](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kajmere) and [VelvetJinx](http://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx) has done beta for me. It's all good ;) 
> 
> Happy birthday, my dear. Have a little something from your BT wishlist ;)

Steve swallows, adjusting the knot of his tie as he stares himself down in the guest room mirror. He is perfectly aware of how to tie a necktie, of course, but he had still been left with no other choice but to do it over at least three times already, before he’d gotten it right. He blames nerves.

He takes a deep breath, and then tucks the loose end of the frost-blue tie into his jacket. They’ve decided not to do this in their dress uniforms, even though they both have them. It is something they had been very clear on from the start – this was _their_ day, and none of them wanted the military involved in it. Then again, Steve thinks, perhaps a uniform would have helped make him feel more at ease, rather than the dark blue suit he’s currently wearing.

He reaches up and runs his finger over the silken knot one more time. Perhaps he should tie it again? It looks a little bit crooked, now that he thinks about it. Or is it?

“Leave the damn thing alone, Steve,” Sam groans from behind him. Steve immediately lets his hand drop while turning around to send a guilty glance at Sam, who’s sprawled out on the guest bed in a suit of his own; grey, discreetly checkered, with a white shirt, and a deep purple tie.

“Sorry,” Steve apologizes. “Nerves.”

“Wow,” Sam says with a laugh. “The great Captain America, nervous. If only people knew.”

Steve opens his mouth to reply, but he only has time to draw breath before a soft knock on the door cuts him off. The door cracks open, and Natasha peeks her head inside.

“You guys ready?” she asks. She pushes the door open further, stepping over the threshold. She looks marvelous in a simple, elegant evening dress. The soft lavender matches the hue of Sam’s tie, and accentuates the flaming red of her hair in a way that makes her look close to radiant.

The result does not go by unnoticed as Sam lets out a low whistle from his spot on the bed. “Woah there,” he says, sitting up slightly. “Better tone that glow down a little, or you’ll end up outshining the bride. Or, you know,” he adds with an apologetic flicker of his eyes at Steve, “ _groom._ ”

Natasha gives Sam an appreciative wink, and Sam’s lip pulls up in a little smirk. Steve rolls his eyes at his best man, before turning towards Nat with a nervous rub of his hands. “So?” he asks. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s fine,” Nat assures him. “He keeps fidgeting with his Boutonnière. I swear, there aren't gonna be any flowers left in the damn thing by the time he gets to the altar.” As she speaks, she reaches out and adjusts the Boutonnière on the lapel of Steve’s own suit, and then gives him an approving pat on the center of his chest. “You look dashing, by the way.”

“Thanks. So do you,” Steve offers. “Purple is obviously your color.”

“Why, thank you,” Nat says, smiling as she lifts the skirt of her dress up and sways her hips a little, looking appropriately flattered. On the bed, Sam gets up and saunters over to slap a supporting hand over Steve’s shoulder.

“You ready, tough guy?”

Steve looks down at himself and smoothes his palms down the front of his chest with a deep breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he decides, letting the hands drop, and Natasha sends him an amused little glance as she walks out the door ahead of him.

Bucky is waiting for them by the bottom of the stairs, and Steve can’t help the wide smile that spreads across his lips as he sees him. Bucky’s suit is black, with a white shirt and black tie with silver stripes. Steve is also glad to see that the white and blue flowers on the left side of his chest are still live and present when Bucky turns around at the sound of their approaching footsteps.

“Hey,” Steve says, still smiling as he comes up to stand in front of him.

“Hi,” Bucky replies in a low, mellow voice, and when Steve takes his hand to twine their fingers together, Bucky smiles back. The sight has Steve feeling as if his heart is about to melt.

Beside them, Nat picks up her clutch from a chair next to the staircase and checks her phone.

“They’re all set,” she declares, having swiped across the screen with her thumb, and Bucky looks at Steve.

“You ready for this?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Steve gives the fingers in his grip a tender squeeze. “I am.”

Together, the four of them head out onto the porch at the front of the house. The sun is out, bright and shining in the blue summer sky. The birds are singing from the trees, and there’s a soft breeze in the air that plays with the strands of Bucky’s hair that have come loose from the bun at the back of his neck.

Sam and Nat give them a few final words of encouragement, before making their way ahead to the back of the house, leaving Steve and Bucky to stand by for their own entrance.

There had been some discussion back and forth regarding which one of them who was supposed to do the long walk down the aisle first, and in the end they had simply decided to do it together, at the same time. Because that’s how they were supposed to do things from now on, anyway. Together.

Steve looks out over the fields surrounding the Barton family farm. It’s idyllic, even though, he has to say, the dark quinjet parked in the driveway does obscure the view a little…

“How long do we wait?” Bucky asks. Steve shrugs.

“About a minute?” he suggests. “Build some suspense.”

“Spoken like a true drama queen,” Bucky teases with a snort, but then he goes quiet as he turns his gaze to regard the tip of his dress shoes in silence.

The seconds seem to drag by as they stand there, side by side on the wooden deck. The nervous whirl in Steve’s stomach is growing stronger with each passing moment, yet, at the same time, he wishes that the two of them could stay just like this forever.

“Who would’ve thought it?” Bucky says suddenly. “That we’d actually get to do this one day. And legally, to boot.”

“It is pretty amazing,” Steve agrees. He turns his head, meeting the warm look out of Bucky’s eyes. Then he leans in and presses a soft, tender kiss to Bucky’s lips.

“You’re not supposed to do that until the priest tells you to,” Bucky reminds him when Steve pulls back. However, he smiles, even as he says it.

“Well, what the priest doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Steve decides.

“Always such a rebel,” Bucky retorts, before adding an affectionate, “Punk,” that makes Steve chuckle.

By his side, Bucky inhales deeply, and when he lets the air back out he straightens up, looking Steve in the eye once more.

“Let’s do this then,” he says simply. Silently, Steve offers him his arm, and Bucky takes it. Together, they walk down the wooden stairs, around the corner of the house, and up the sloping lawn towards the big tree crowning the centre of the Bartons’ back yard.

It’s an oak, and it sits right by the invisible border between the property and the wild meadow stretching out behind it. There is a collection of mismatched wooden chairs from the house aligned in two sections placed in front of the tree, with white ribbons tied around the backs in an attempt to create some sort of unity between them. In front of the chairs, a flower arch has been put up, decorated with wild flowers and golden straws of wheat that Laura and the kids had spent the morning gathering from the fields nearby. Even the tire-swing hanging from the tree has been decked out for the occasion, with flowers spilling out from inside the hollow of the tire circlet like a waterfall. It’s all very rustic, very simple. Just the way they had agreed it would be.

The guests are already standing as they approach, and Steve swallows while tightening his hold on Bucky’s arm when everyone’s eyes are suddenly directed at them.

“Breathe,” Bucky whispers out of the corner of his mouth, and Steve nearly snorts out a laugh. Bucky sounds just like he had back in Brooklyn; back when Steve’s crippled breathing had been the biggest threat either of them had ever had to worry about. He’s momentarily tempted to remind Bucky that he doesn’t have asthma anymore, but settles for simply following the advice and let out the breath he hadn’t even been aware of holding.

There aren’t all that many guests, really. There’s Clint, Laura, and the kids, which is a given even if they hadn’t been as kind as to provide them with a location for the ceremony. There’s Sam, and Nat, standing at the ready on either side of the altar. Tony and Pepper are seated on the front row, with Peter on their left, and Thor, Vision, and Wanda on the row across from them. The second row holds Bruce, Scott, and his adorably cute daughter, who’s wearing a baby blue dress and a white silken bow in her hair. Next to them is Maria, and on the opposite side, Steve is only slightly surprised to find Nicholas Fury, who’s switched his black leather coat to a black blazer in honor of the day. Steve has no idea how Fury got wind of the wedding, but Steve suspects that Maria probably had something to do with that. Not that anyone minds.

Seated next to Fury is His Royal Majesty King T’Challa and a woman whom Steve suspects is a member of the Wakandan _Dora Milaje_. According to Nat, they’re the Wakandan king’s bodyguard. She and the woman – whom so far has remained nameless – get along well, if Steve has understood the situation right, but with women, Steve supposes one can never be too sure about anything.

It’s a nice collection of people. Intimate, even without considering the fact that they’ve all fought and bled together on the battlefield, more than once (and on opposite sides, for that matter). No one is fighting now, however, which on its own is a good thing. Although, Steve suspects there could have been a full-out brawl going on, and he still wouldn’t have noticed it. He’s too focused on simply getting himself down the aisle without tripping over his own feet, that’s how nervous he is. It’s a good thing he’s got the sturdy frame of Bucky’s left arm to hold onto, or he would’ve surely taken a tumble already.

The officiant is already standing underneath the flower arch, waiting for them as they approach. Clint had recommended them the local pastor of the town nearby, seeing as he was a “decent old kook” who’d happily wed a same-sex couple, which honestly is everything Steve and Bucky could have asked for. As they reach the arch and take their places, the reverend pushes his slightly tinted glasses higher onto his nose, giving them a regarding look over the rim. “Just like we rehearsed, gentlemen,” he says calmly.

“Hopefully not,” Steve murmurs, making Bucky snicker. Yesterday’s rehearsal had gone horribly; Steve had messed up at every other turn, no matter how hard he had tried to get it right. He’d never been good with lines. Even for the Captain America tour back in the day, it had taken him three whole states before he had learned the lines without having to look at the script taped to the back of his prop shield.

Steve hears the sound of movement from behind him as the guests sit down on the chairs once more, and he tightens his hold on Bucky’s hands, feeling Bucky squeeze his in return. The pastor pages through his book, fiddling a little with a few markers stuck between the pages, before lifting his gaze to look out over the gathered group before him.

“Good afternoon everybody,” he says, his voice calm and cheerful. “I’m happy to see that so many of you could make it here today.” He pauses, nodding with approval as his eyes wander from guest to guest, before continuing, “I must say, you all look absolutely spiffy. That is still the correct term, is it not?” he adds towards Bucky, who smiles, and nods while mouthing out a silent, “Yes” in return.

The pastor smirks, and then raises his arms in a grand, inviting gesture. “Welcome, all of you, to the Barton family farm, where we’ve gathered on this fine day to celebrate the union of Steve Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes. Before we start,” he continues, in the same sincere tone, “I’d like to ask all of you to please turn the volume of your phones up as high as possible, so that when somebody gets a phone call during the ceremony we all know whom to blame. Alternatively, please silence your phones.”

Steve has to clamp down on his lower lip in order not to start grinning when he picks up the sound of several cell phones being pulled out of pockets and clutches. Once the noise settles, the pastor looks out over the guests again, and smiles.

“Well then,” he says. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

The ceremony is simple. Steve and Bucky had agreed from the start that the religious parts of the whole deal ought to be kept to a minimum. Sure, they have their religion, and they are both aware that a protestant priest would not have been their first choice, had this – by some miracle – taken place a few decades ago. Times, as they are, change, and so do they. As of this precise moment, Steve couldn’t care less which version of God’s approval he got for doing this, because it was getting _done._

Also, the fact that they have an actual deity currently present and seated in the guest section might also be a good motivation not to bring religious beliefs into it all…

Either way, Steve’s grateful for the ceremony, as it doesn’t really require them to do anything other than just _stand_ there. It’s easier than Steve had expected. He answers the pastor’s questions when asked, repeats what he’s told, and recites the things he’s supposed to recite flawlessly; not counting the tremble in his voice when the he lets the actual “I do” fall from his lips.

When Bucky answers, it both warms Steve’s heart and annoys him how steady his soon-to-be husband’s voice sounds.

“Having heard that it is your intention to be married to each other, I now ask you to declare your marriage vows,” the pastor says. He pauses, looking at them with an arch of his eyebrow. “Normally, I’d ask you to face each other and hold hands, but I see that you’ve already beaten me to it.”

Steve ducks his head with an embarrassed chuckle as he hears amused giggles and snickering from the guests. Another person might have taken the Pastor’s carefree attitude as an insult, but for Steve, the laidback approach works wonders for his nerves. He takes a deep, shaky breath, smiling when the combined cool and warmth of Bucky’s thumbs rub over the back of his hands.

“I promise—” Steve starts, but finds that he has to pause and clear the croak from his throat before starting over. When he finally manages to look Bucky in the eye, the words he’d struggled so to memorize the day before comes flowing without as much as a stutter.

“I promise to stand by you,” he declares solemnly. “Today, tomorrow, and every tomorrow after that. I promise to have faith in you, and trust the person that you are, as well as the one you will become. I promise to be by your side, always, whether you need me to or not. I promise to share the rest of my life with you. To laugh, and cry with you, and to love you, even when you yourself do not. I promise that no matter what the future has in store, I’ll never let anything or anyone come between us. Today, and for every remaining day for the rest of our lives, I promise to choose you. Always.”

As the final word leaves his mouth, Steve swallows hard, feeling as if an enormous weight has suddenly been lifted off his shoulders. In front of him, Bucky is still keeping his gaze locked onto Steve’s own, grey eyes glassy and shimmering. Steve can tell by the way his jaw keeps clenching, and from how Bucky’s throat continues to bob long after Steve finished speaking, that Bucky’s struggling to keep himself from bursting into tears.

The thought has barely had time to pass through Steve’s mind when Bucky lowers his gaze down to the center of Steve’s chest, biting his lower lip as his hold tightens around Steve’s fingers. Steve watches him swallow once, hard, and then lift his head to look Steve in the eye once more.

Then, to Steve’s surprise, Bucky lets go of Steve with his left hand to reach into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pull out a tiny piece of paper, folded into a neat, precise square. The creases are worn, which indicates that the note has been unfolded and refolded, over and over, enough times to make the material of the paper near brittle. Bucky holds the note up to look at it with a contemplative frown, and then, slowly, and very deliberately, he lets Steve’s other hand go as well, in favor of tearing the note in two without even unfolding it first.

Steve watches the halves of the note as they land on the grass by their feet before leisurely twirling across the lawn, caught by the summer breeze.

“It took me two weeks to write that,” Bucky says flatly, and Steve blinks as he lifts his head to look back up at him. Bucky sighs, and Steve’s heart skips a beat inside his chest when Bucky takes hold of his hands once more.

“I’m not an artist,” Bucky says. “You know I’m not. I’ve never been able to capture the world in images and words the way you do, though I try. But I don’t have to know how to create a work of art to know when I’m looking at one.”

Steve makes a sound at that – a soft little noise in the back of his throat – and the corner of Bucky’s mouth quirks up in a smile.

“I’m not perfect,” he says. “And heaven knows you aren’t either. You’re reckless, and selfless to the point of lunacy. Your super-makeover did a lot, but it sure didn’t change any of that. I look at you today, and I still see that scrawny little runt from Brooklyn, who I had to pull out of fights every other night because he was too noble to ignore injustice where he saw it. I look at you getting ready to leave the apartment in the morning, and I still want to remind you to dress warm enough not to catch a cold. Even after everything, I still feel like I should be there to protect you. Care for you.”

He pauses to lick his lips, and then he shakes his head with a low chuckle as he continues, “What I’m trying to say, as jumbled and incoherent as it sounds, is that I love you. I loved you back then, and I will continue to love you until my heart gives out inside my chest. I will love you with everything I have, and I will always be there to drag you out of fights and patch your dumb ass up afterwards. You’re stuck with me, pal.”

_Don’t say it,_ Steve thinks, feeling his throat struggle to tie itself into a knot around his windpipe with emotions as his eyes grow misty. _You absolute jerk,_ _don’t you_ dare _say it._

“I’m still with you to the end of that line,” Bucky announces firmly, and dammit, Steve can feel his lips begin to tremble. “Because to me, loving you is the beginning and ending of everything.”

There’s a moment where the only thing being heard is the sound of the leaves rustling above their heads, and Steve is fairly certain that he sees Pepper wiping at her eyes with a napkin from the corner of his eye. Then again, with the way his vision is blurry from the tears in his own, it might as well have been Thor.

He is perfectly aware that this is the first time either of them has ever said that phrase out loud in front of other people. As he stands there, looking into the soft, warm grey of Bucky’s eyes, he also realizes that Bucky knows that it hadn’t actually been needed to be said at all. Yet, after having heard it like this; just like that first time on his doorstep with Bucky’s hand around his shoulder, only now with it’s true intent and meaning laid bare for the world to see, Steve knows it in his heart that the wedding wouldn’t have felt complete without it.

By his side, the pastor turns towards Sam and gestures for him to come to the front with a humble, “Rings, please.” Sam obediently steps forward, and Steve quickly blinks the tears away from his eyes as Sam holds out the open box with the two rings. Steve’s hand is trembling a little as he takes the larger one of the two (Bucky’s fingers require a little extra space, with being metal and all), and Bucky quickly plucks the remaining ring out of the box, allowing Sam to return to his original spot.

“Steven, if you’d please place the ring on the tip of James’ finger and repeat after me.”

Steve nods and does as he’s told, willing his hand to stop shaking as he takes a firm grip around Bucky’s left hand. “I give you this ring,” he says, echoing the pastor’s words, “Please, wear it forever as a sign of my love.”

As he slides the golden circlet all the way down onto Bucky’s left ring finger, Bucky lets out a noise that Steve can’t really place, but he doesn’t have time to think about what it might mean before Bucky’s grabbed hold of his left hand and placed the other ring at the tip of Steve’s own finger.

“With this ring, I marry you,” he says after the pastor, albeit a bit hoarsely. “Wear it with love and joy. As this ring has no end, my love is also forever.”

As Steve watches Bucky slide the ring down his finger, his chest feels as if it’s about to burst. Then, as the gleam of gold on Bucky’s hand catches the sun from above, he’s positive that it already has.

“Yesterday,” the pastor says to the guests, “I asked both Steven and James to sum up their relationship in one word. I can honestly say that for the first time in my history of doing weddings and asking couples this question, they both used the same one: _love._ And today is indeed all about love, isn’t it? Love that’s been promised, sought, and fought for. Love _chosen_. Love that’s prevailed through time and hardships, at very last, fulfilled. I think we can all agree that it was about darn time, too,” he adds, drawing a lighthearted chuckle from the two grooms and guests.

Then, he pauses for a moment, looking at Bucky and Steve with a smile, before continuing, “Gentlemen, it has been my honor to officiate your ceremony today. And now, I get to say something I believe the two of you have been looking forward to hear for a long, long time.”

He steps back, closing the book in his hand. “By the powers vested in me by the State of Iowa, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss the groom.”

And they do kiss. It’s the only part of it all that Steve can remember clearly afterwards; how Bucky’s hand had cradled his jaw, and with the soft, tender reverence Bucky had pressed his lips against Steve’s own, as if he wasn’t sure if he really could.

The others are cheering and applauding from their seats, and Steve’s pretty sure that he hears Nat’s wolf-whistle cut through the air from over Bucky’s shoulder. It’s all a bit of a blur after that. They don’t even bother with walking back down the aisle, even though they had rehearsed doing so, seeing as people are already lining up to give the newlyweds their well wishes.

There are people congratulating them, hands slapping against Steve’s back. He’s convinced that Tony gives him a big smooch on the cheek, mere seconds before Thor wraps him into a rib-crushing hug that actually leaves him a little dazed, once he’s put back down.

Bucky isn’t spared either. Wanda throws herself around his neck with a smile, beaming like the sun when Bucky turns her way. Vision, on the other hand, offers a polite handshake, but Bucky slaps it away with a snort and a laugh in favor of hugging him fondly instead.

It’s a mess, really, but it’s the best mess Steve’s ever been a part of.

After a while, once the chaos begins to simmer down, Clint calls for people’s attention as he tells the guests to grab the chair they had been sitting on and bring it down with them to the reception at the barn. They don’t own all that many chairs, after all, so they’ll simply have to make do with what they have.

As people begins to trot off in groups of two or more, Bucky turns to the pastor.

“Are you joining us, Reverend?” he asks politely, but the pastor just shakes his head with a fond smile.

“Sorry, son,” he apologises. “As flattering as the request might be, I unfortunately have a baptism to prepare for this afternoon.”

“That’s a shame. We would’ve loved to have you,” Steve offers.

“I’ll get by,” the pastor assures them. “I appreciate the gesture. Besides, you’ve given me enough already. I’ll be a proper hero back home once I tell my grandkids I administered the wedding of the famed Captain America.”

Steve laughs, because yeah, he can sort of imagine what the reaction to that announcement will be like. Instead, he offers the man his hand, and the Pastor takes it, shaking it heartily.

“Thank you, Pastor Lee,” Steve says sincerely.

“My pleasure, son,” the pastor replies, adjusting his tinted glasses with his other hand. “And please, call me Stan.” He shakes Bucky’s hand as well, a next thing, Sam is hauling them along after the others while Laura and Thor, with the questionable assistance of the Barton kids, unearth the flower arch to bring it with them to the barn.

Steve is curious about the barn. Clint, Sam, and Nat had spent the entire day before out there, getting things ready for the reception, and both Steve and Bucky had been sternly banned from going anywhere near the place. Though – and Steve knows this for a fact – Bucky had tried to sneak a peek inside after last night’s dinner, only to stumble straight into, not one of Nat’s, nor Clint’s, but the Barton _kids’_ booby traps that had been conveniently placed outside the door. Just in case.

Bucky had refused to say what exactly the trap had involved, but if the blue and red splatters on the back of his t-shirt had been of any indication, Steve would like to put his money on (at the very least) two precariously balanced buckets of paint, and an conveniently-looking cracked door. Apparently, the best way to catch the world’s most infamous assassin off guard is to make the traps so ludicrously simple, they get overlooked.

Now, as they approach the large double doors of the building, Steve is thoroughly amused by the not-so-subtle way Bucky pulls at his arm to make him go faster. However, they don’t even get close enough to see through the door, when Sam steps in front of them while pulling out his smartphone from inside his jacket.

“All right, all right, now hold up,” he says. “If you think you’re gonna get away from this, you’ve got another thing coming.”

By Steve’s side, Bucky groans and tips his head back to the sky in a display of obvious dismay.

“Is this really necessary?” he asks while throwing an envious glance over Sam’s shoulder to where Nat and Wanda are walking into the barn ahead of them.

“One shot,” Sam says, holding his index finger up for emphasis. “Just one, and then you’re done.”

“I fucking hate cameras,” Bucky mutters under his breath, making Steve nudge him in the ribs with his elbow.

“C’mon, Buck,” he coaxes. “You know Nat is gonna to kick our asses if we don’t have at least _one_ good picture to show from today.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I hate it,” Bucky complains, and Sam snorts.

“Yeah, well, sucks to be you,” he offers without any kind of sympathy while waving them together. “Now, kiss, or whatever sappy things it is you newlyweds do.”

“Do we have to show our faces?” Bucky tries to barter.

“Then what do you suggest I take a picture of?” Sam asks impatiently. “Your shoes?”

“Our rings?” Steve suggests. Without waiting for an answer, he pulls his wedding ring off his finger and holds it up, and Bucky blinks, looking confused for a moment before following suit.

“All right,” Sam says with a sigh as he raises the camera phone to eye level. “Just hold ’em still.”

“This is dumb,” Bucky says, turning towards Steve, and Steve laughs as he wraps his arm around the small of Bucky’s back to pull him even closer.

“ _You’re_ dumb,” he counters, and Bucky barely has time to snort and shake his head at the juvenile comeback, before Steve leans in and captures his lips in a searing kiss.

“Hey, hey, save it for the wedding night, you two,” Sam teases.

“Just take the damn picture, Wilson,” Bucky grumbles out against Steve’s lips, “before we age another century.”

Steve laughs, and then kisses Bucky again, barely registering the artificial shutter sound of the phone when Sam snaps the shot. Several of them, actually.

[ ](http://chiyume.tumblr.com/post/160618998449/hey-hey-save-it-for-the-wedding-night-you)

 

“Yep,” Sam says contentedly once the couple pulls apart. “Bridal Fantasy, eat your heart out.”

“If you send that to the _press_ ,” Bucky threatens, eyes wide, “I’m gonna shove that phone so far up your—”

“Easy, tiger,” Sam says while tucking the phone back into his pocket with a laugh, slapping a hand over Bucky’s shoulder and shaking it. “Loosen up a little. It’s your _wedding day_ , man.”

At that, Bucky actually ducks his head, and when Sam squeezes his shoulder for a second time, Bucky lets out a snorted laugh as he looks back up, grinning.

“Yeah,” he agrees softly. “As a matter of fact, it is.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sam approves. He looks on as Bucky slides the golden ring back onto his finger, and suddenly he frowns. “Can I ask you guys one thing, though?”

“What?” Steve asks, looking up from putting his own ring back when Sam nods towards the gold on his grasp.

“Why didn’t you guys have your names engraved in the rings? I thought you said you were gonna get something special done, but when I looked there was just a band on the inside.”

Steve smiles when Bucky sends him an amused glance from the corner of his eye, before turning back to Sam. “It’s not a band,” he says simply. “It’s a line.”

“A line?” Sam asks, confused. “But it just went in a circle, there was no en— Oh.”

Bucky actually laughs out loud when the reference clicks inside Sam’s head, and Sam rewards him with an embarrassed shove to the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” he grumbles. “You two are the most sappy old farts I’ve ever met, I hope you realize that.” He makes a throw of his head towards the barn. “Now get a move on, the others are waiting.”

Turns out, the barn looks absolutely _amazing_.

Steve actually has to stop in the middle of the doorway just to marvel at the scenery before him when the two of them walk inside, eyes wide and mouth gaping,

There are fairy lights strung across the entire ceiling, spreading a soft, enchanted glow over the rest of the interior. The clutter that had occupied the barn the last time Steve was in here, has been cleared away and replaced by three large tables, arranged in the shape of a large U, with the flower arch from the ceremony set up at the center table where Steve suspects he and Bucky are meant to sit.

The tables have been decorated with mason jars and glass vases in various sizes and shapes. Some of them have live candles flickering inside, while other are brimming with wildflowers and wheat, just like the flower arch, with sunflowers crowning each arrangement like bright dollops of pure gold. Bales of hay fill up the two corners behind the main table, and Steve can see two large wooden slabs, still with the bark on, that has been placed upon the stack on the left with the initials S and J cut out in the center.

Bucky, on the other hand, isn’t looking anywhere near the decor. As Steve follows the line of his husband’s sight, he realizes that Bucky’s gaze is firmly fixed on the long line of tables that’s been set up along the left side wall of the barn.

“Sweet Jesus…” Steve hears him groan reverently, and Steve can’t do anything but agree.

Laura has been cooking all morning, as well as the night before. Steve knows, because he had made several attempts to help, only to be politely, but firmly, ushered out of the kitchen by the entire Barton family, with the surprising addition of one Bruce Banner dressed in Laura’s flower-patterned apron. Needless to say, Steve had not pushed the subject any further.

Thor had caused a sudden and insistent need for space when he had arrived with a roasted wild boar the size of a cow. This had been remedied by cutting up the meat into bite sized servings, which had then been plated and set out on the buffet table, accompanied by a plethora of condiments. There are vegetables, fruits, pasta, baked potatoes, sauces and everything else that could possibly have been requested for the occasion. Steve can feel his mouth water simply by looking at it.

“That’s it,” Bucky says, straightening up, “You’re gonna have to roll me out of here tonight.”

“As long as you walk up the front stairs on your own,” Steve counters sweetly.

“Is that your way of saying you’re not carrying me over the threshold?”

“Depends,” Steve says. “Does dragging you over it count?” The reply earns him a shove in the side from Bucky’s metal elbow, and a playful kiss on the lips. Then Nat’s suddenly there, showing them to their seats.

The food is absolutely delicious. Steve is convinced that he’s never eaten, nor will ever eat, as much ever again. Bucky fights valiantly, but is forced to give up after three brimming plates.

There are speeches, of course. Sam and Nat jokingly talk about Steve’s and Bucky’s flaws, as good friends do, closing their speeches up with a toast, while wishing them all the best in the future. Thor’s speech is grand, filled with words that would have sounded ridiculous and over-dramatic had they been uttered by anyone else, but works oddly well when coming from the mouth of an Asgardian prince. By the end of it, Steve isn’t sure whether he’s just been congratulated on gaining a husband, or coming out on the winning side of a battle to the death.

Tony’s speech is the only one that brings forth tears, which actually surprises Steve more than anything else that day. The speech itself starts the way one would have expected; with Tony talking about himself. Then, after a few laughs, Tony turns. Not towards Steve, but to Bucky.

“Robocop,” he says fondly. “Everyone here knows that you and I didn’t exactly start out on the good side of things. My _father_ , on the other hand,” he says, while pressing his index finger knowingly against the tip of his nose, “spoke of you often. He told me about James Barnes; not the spectacular sniper he had met during the war, or Captain America’s inseparable shadow… but James Barnes, the friend.”

Tony swallows as he looks down at the glass in his hand for a moment. “He told me of a man who was willing to give up everything for the noble cause. Of a man with a courage in his heart that was only outshone by the kindness of his soul. He talked about you as a friend, and as a kid, I had no reason to doubt that what he said was true. Then, at long last, I actually met you.” He pauses, looking up from his drink to turn his gaze directly on Bucky. “And I decided that my father had lied.”

By his side, Steve can feel Bucky’s posture squaring, and slowly, he lets his hand wander underneath the edge of the table to grab a reassuring hold around Bucky’s hand. Bucky immediately curls his fingers around it, squeezing it hard. Steve’s not sure what’s happening, or where exactly Tony is going with this. Around them the entire table has suddenly gone dead quiet; the only sound heard being the low whisper of breathing as Tony clears his throat.

“We’ve fought, you and I,” he says earnestly, still holding Bucky’s gaze. “We’ve hurt each other, in more ways than one. I’ve hated you more than I’ve hated anyone, and I… honestly don’t think I’ve ever been so ashamed of something in my entire life.”

Steve hears the rush of air as Bucky exhales, and inside Steve’s chest, there’s suddenly a feeling of something giving out. Like a knot coming untied, and when Steve breathes in, it’s like taking the first proper breath after several years of slowly choking.

“It turns out,” Tony says, voice low, “that my father did not, in fact, lie. And I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize that. Even more to say it out loud.”

He looks at Bucky in silence for a few moment, and then nods, as if reaching a conclusion to something, before turning towards the other guests, raising his voice a little. “There’s a saying, that two people can walk under the same roof for a lifetime, and never truly know one another. Yet, for some, it only takes a single glance to become old friends. Now, these two,” he says, pointing his glass towards Steve and Bucky, “are obviously the oldest set of friends any of us will ever meet. And I’m willing to bet my entire career that it took them less than a glance to get there.”

Steve gives Bucky a quick look out of the corner of his eye, but Bucky’s not looking at him. His gaze is fixed on Tony, eyes shining in the soft gleam of the fairy lights above. As Steve looks on, Bucky’s throat bobs as the man swallows tightly when Tony turns back to them both.

“James,” Tony says solemnly. “Needless to say, I screwed our first glance up pretty damn royally, but I’m glad that your husband here was stubborn enough to teach me how wrong I was. You’re every bit the man my father claimed you to be, perhaps even more, and I’m convinced that there will never be anyone else on this earth better suited to keep Steve here out of trouble, than you. You’ve shown more grace, and more dignity than most men I know, and I want to thank you for allowing me to call you my friend. For _being_ my friend.”

He goes quiet as he bites down on his bottom lip. Then he looks at Steve.

“You’re a lucky man, Rogers,” he says simply, and Steve smiles, clutching around Bucky’s hand.

“I know,” he replies hoarsely, and Tony snorts out a satisfied laugh while turning towards the rest of the table, raising his glass. “Now, as a friend,” he says loudly. “I’d like to give the lucky two a piece of advice for their future together, and trust me, when I say, I speak from experience on this one.”

He pauses, waiting for the rest of the table to raise their glasses as well, before taking a deep breath.

“To keep a marriage brimming, with love in loving cup,” he recites, “whenever you’re wrong – admit it. Whenever you’re right – _shut up._ ” He turns back to Steve and Bucky, still with glass in hand. “May love light your days, and warm your hearts. And may you always have friendship, if not around you, then at least between you. To the happy couple.”

“To the happy couple,” the others echo, following as Tony drinks their toast, and that’s when Steve realizes that Bucky’s crying.

Silent, wet streaks are running down Bucky’s cheeks, gleaming with the flicker of the live candles on the table, and before Tony has even pulled the glass away from his mouth, Bucky has suddenly stood up from his seat in such a rush that he nearly sends the chair tipping over. Without as much as a word, he then strides down the line of chairs and throws both his arms around the width of Tony’s shoulders, hugging him hard while pressing his trembling lips against the top of the other man’s Armani-clad shoulder.

For a moment, Tony just stands there, momentarily frozen, but then he laughs. Struggling beneath Bucky’s weight, he somehow manages to set his glass back down on the table, and then he’s hugging Bucky back, tight, while grinning like a sap.

“You okay there, buddy?” he asks, upon which Bucky only tightens his hold around him while nodding rapidly. The response makes Tony laugh again, and Steve suddenly finds himself struggling to clear yet another emotional lump out of his throat for the near hundredth time that day.

Once Tony finally manages to convince Bucky to let him go and return to his seat, Nat waits until everyone has finished their food before announcing that it’s time to open the gifts.

The gifts have all been gathered onto the trailer of Clint’s tractor, and so Bucky and Steve simply climb onto the trailer themselves and unpack the gifts from up there, holding them up on display for everyone to get a good look.

From the Barton family, they receive two aprons with the text “Mr. Cooks it all” and the respective  “Mr. Eats it all” embroidered on the front. There’s a short, but intense discussion about whom the latter of the two garments was intended for, but they quickly agree that no matter what level Steve’s cooking skills are on, Bucky will probably end up eating all of it anyway.

The aprons are then accompanied by a cookbook from Wanda and Vision, featuring the most popular recipes of the 20th century. Some of them Bucky and Steve are very familiar with. Others sound downright ridiculous. Like Ambrosia Salad, for example, which Bucky decides sounds like a nasty infection near the lower regions rather than something you’d wanna put in your mouth.

Tony and Pepper give them a gift card for a spa weekend at a luxury resort in Manhattan, which Bucky pockets the moment Steve’s finished reading the card it came with. Thor gives them a barrel (actual _barrel_ ) each of Asgardian ale, while firmly proclaiming that both Bucky and Steve have already proven to be great enough warriors to drink this otherworldly beverage whenever they so please.

T’Challa’s gift consists of traditional Wakandan wedding jewelry. Bucky receives a silver hair pin embellished with amber and turquoise beads, while Steve is provided with what T’Challa explains is a brooch with matching gems.

Peter Parker gives them tickets to the Science festival that’s being held in New York that very fall, which Bucky geeks out over completely. Steve has to remind him that there are more gifts to open, lest he spend the rest of the afternoon with Peter, discussing the evolution of tesla coils and other things Steve doesn’t understand.

Bruce’s gift consists of a collection of genuine vinyl records from the middle of the 30’s, all the way to the late 40’s, which Steve immediately decides to put somewhere high and safe so they don’t get damaged. Modern music is fun and all, but the old classics will always have a special spot inside his and Bucky’s hearts, he suspects, for as long as they’ll live.

Maria gives them a pack of wine glasses, accompanied by a set of matching ale glasses from Fury, which Steve suspects Maria picked out all the same, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

Scott’s daughter Cassie shyly hands Steve a drawing which features what has got to be Steve and Bucky, both in white wedding dresses and holding hands in front of a house with heart shaped windows. Steve thanks her and then taps Bucky on the shoulder to show him the drawing. Bucky takes one look at it before proudly announcing that he clearly looks better in white than Steve does.

Scott gives them a gift card for Home Depot, and he’s already managed to stutter himself through five and a half apologies why he doesn’t have anything more expensive to give when Steve manages to convince him that the gift it’s more than enough.

When the turn comes for Sam to present his gift, he simply hands Steve a plain white envelope, which Steve takes with a suspicious squint at his friend.

“Have you also drawn us something?” Bucky asks cockily, but then his eyes drift to the card Steve’s pulled out of the envelope, and goes dead quiet. Steve reads the card two more times, and then a third time for good measure, before looking up at Sam again.

“You serious?” he asks, and Sam smirks.

“Is that guy doing what I think he’s doing?” Bucky asks, pointing to the picture adorning the inside of the card in Steve’s hand.

“Yup,” Sam says simply, which makes Bucky narrow his eyes at him.

“What exactly _is_ Base Jumping?” he asks warily.

“Since Steve here enjoys throwing himself out of aircrafts without a ‘chute on a regular basis,” Sam says with a shrug, “I figured I’d get the two of you the next best thing.”

“Wait, what?” Bucky says, turning to look at Steve sharply. “You jump from airplanes _without a ‘chute?_ ”

“Uh,” Steve says nervously, but he’s saved by the fact that Bucky – who finally seems to have connected the dots between jumping without parachutes and the photo – turns to stare at Sam with a look of absolute horror on his face.

“No,” he decides flatly.

“Oh, yes,” Sam insists, at this point grinning like a damn cheshire cat as Bucky's throat gives an audible gulp.

“It’ll be fine, Buck,” Steve promises. He puts a reassuring hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “It’s not as much falling as it is flying, and we both know how to do that.”

Bucky gives Steve a long, stern stare, and then he turns to Sam with a sincere and audible, “I fucking hate you.”

Sam just snickers, and Steve gives Bucky’s shoulder a final squeeze before letting go. It’s a good thing Bucky’s fear of heights isn’t anywhere near what it used to be. Despite the fall from the train, his time with Hydra appears to have conditioned most of the phobia out of his system, but that still doesn’t mean that Bucky now considers high altitudes to be ‘ _fun’._ Not that it matters, of course. If Steve knows his beloved spouse right – which, he honestly thinks he does pretty well at this point – this will most likely end up just like the Cyclone at Coney Island, all over again. Bucky is going to refuse, only to end up going through with it anyway, and then demand they do it again before they even touch the ground.

That leaves Nat’s gift for last, but as Steve turns to the spot where the unopened gifts had been, he finds that there are none left. He looks at Bucky, who appears to just have realized the same thing, and both of them flinch when Nat suddenly clears her throat from the ground next to the trailer.

“You’re probably gonna want to get down from there for this one,” she says secretively, and Steve and Bucky share a quick, nervous look, before obediently climbing off the trailer to stand in front of her.

Nat is holding her hands behind her back, which usually is a more than enough to warrant concern, right along with the mischievous smile playing at the corner of her mouth as she regards them in silence.

“Steve Rogers,” she says eventually, and Steve straightens up out of pure reflex when her eyes land on him as she continues, “Captain America himself, now married and off the market. I hope you realize how many men and women that are going to be crying themselves to sleep once that word gets out.”

Steve snorts out an embarrassed laugh, ducking his head.

“Then again,” Nat says pensively, “you were off the market long before you became Captain America, weren’t you?”

“Damn straight, he was,” Bucky chimes in while possessively grabbing hold of Steve’s hand to lace his fingers with Steve’s own.

“Yeah,” Nat agrees, “I guessed. Which is why I think the two of you are going to like what I got for you.”

Slowly, she takes her hands out from behind her back, and hands the two of them a bright blue, wooden casket, about the size of a shoe box. The only embellishment is the brass locking mechanism adorning the lid, as well as the small brass key sticking out from inside it.

“Captain America was a big name during the war,” Nat says while Steve turns the lock with a soft click, “but Steve Rogers didn’t get famous until several years later. However, there were still some people back in the day, who knew exactly how the story of Steve Rogers started. And, more importantly, _where._ ”

Steve shoots her a quizzical frown over the casket in his hand. When she just nods for him to go ahead, he grabs around the lid, and slowly opens the box.

The truth is, as Steve turns his eyes to the content before him, he has absolutely no idea what he’s looking at. Bucky, on the other hand, gives a loud, choked gasp the moment the inside of the box is revealed, and when Steve glances at him, Bucky looks as if he’s about two and a half seconds away from fainting right on the spot.

“Bucky?” Steve asks, but as he moves to put the box down in favor of tending to his husband, Bucky grabs around the box with his left hand, stopping him. He stares at the items inside, and then he stares at Nat.

“Where did you find these?” he breathes.

In return, Natasha just smiles, and Bucky lets out a astonished little laugh as he turns back to the box in Steve’s hands.

“Buck, what _is it?_ ” Steve insists, but Bucky just reaches into the box in silence, and picks up the content inside.

It’s not until that point, that Steve realizes what they’ve been given.

They’re letters.

Letters addressed to Steve’s old apartment in Brooklyn, with Bucky’s handwriting neatly printed at the front of every single envelope.

“I—” Bucky begins, but his voice breaks on the one syllable alone, forcing him to start over. “I wrote you,” he says quietly, with a tone so brittle it makes Steve’s heart clench. “After I shipped out, I wrote you all these letters, I— I just assumed since you never said anything or wrote me back that you never got them.”

“He didn’t,” Nat says, before Steve can answer. “He was already sent away to prepare for the Rebirth project by then.”

“I had no idea,” Steve says, staring at the impressive bundle in Bucky’s hand before shifting his gaze to the remaining, identical stack still in the casket. “I mean, with all these letters you must have written me—”

“Every day,” Bucky whispers, as if to himself. He looks up at Nat, and for a moment he appears almost lost where he stands with the yellowed letters delicately clutched between metal fingers. “How did you—?”

“When Steve left for England,” Nat explains, “the army created a storage unit for all of his belongings in the US. As in your furniture, clothes, curtains, and everything else that was in your apartment at the time,” she clarifies towards Steve. “Including your mail.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “I know, but I— I thought that had all been thrown away when I—” He cuts himself off. For a moment, he had been about to say _when I died_ , but the words stuck in his throat before he could even form them right. Nat gets it anyway, thankfully, and she nods.

“Yes, that’s what the records say,” she agrees. “However, everyone who’s ever worked with the military knows better than to trust the content of official reports and documents.” While she talks, Natasha reaches into the clutch that’s hanging on her shoulder, and when she pulls her hand back out, there’s a second key dangling from the tip of her index finger.

She holds it out to Bucky, and Bucky takes it with an even more confused look than the one he had already been wearing.

“Where does it go?” he asks.

“To the spare quinjet hangar, back at the Avenger’s compound,” Natasha says. When she meets their confused stares, her lips pull up at one corner in a pleased little smirk. “Apparently, the storage unit the military picked out for Steve’s belongings turned out to be too small. Since _someone_ ,” she adds with a stern look at Steve, “went and hoarded a bunch of stuff from the Buchanan residence before he left Brooklyn. So they had to move it to a bigger one, which, oddly enough, no one saw fit to write down.”

Steve stares at the key in Bucky’s hand, and this time, it’s _he_ who feels as if he’s going to sag to the floor at any given second.

“You didn’t,” he says.

“Oh, but I did,” Nat retorts smugly, and yeah, Steve is going to have to sit down, right now, or his legs are going to simply give out from underneath him. He leans back against the wheel of the tractor, not even caring that it’s dirty and that it’s most likely going to leave stains all over his suit.

Their belongings. Their entire _lives._

He stares at Bucky, while Bucky stares right back, and as the first hint of a grin begins to spread across the curve of Bucky’s lips, Steve starts laughing.

Natasha is lucky that she doesn’t end up breaking a rib or two once they’ve gathered enough of their composure to hug her, and Steve is convinced that both his and Bucky’s tongues are going to fall out of their mouths before they’re able to thank her enough. They’ve already started the process of convincing her that a shopping spree in Paris would be the _perfect_ introduction to showing her their appreciation, when Laura intercepts them by announcing that it’s time to cut the cake.

The cake, which is a plain, white fondant, cascade creation decorated with sunflowers in three separate tiers, is something Steve’s been looking forward to all day. Each tier has a different flavor; one white vanilla and coconut cake with lemon buttercream, one chocolate cake with dark rum-chocolate mousse, and another vanilla cake with cream cheese-filling, layered with fresh strawberries.

They draw straws on which tier to cut first. Steve keeps his fingers crossed for the cream cheese and strawberry cake, and is a genuinely disappointed when Bucky’s coconut cake wins out. Bucky threatens to smear his face with lemon frosting if Steve continues to pout, but in the end, he settles with simply feeding it to him, which immediately makes Steve feel a whole lot better about having lost in the first place.

It’s amazing that they even manage to get up to perform their first dance afterwards with how full they are, but somehow, by some miracle, they still succeed. For Steve’s sake – or Bucky’s toes’, the opinions differ – they’ve already settled on a simple slowdance. As Clint dims the lights down, Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s waist and pulls him close with a mumbled, “Watch those left feet now,” before settling his head against Steve’s shoulder as the instrumental piano music begins to play.

They dance. Just like they used to do back in Steve’s kitchen late at night, with the lights turned down and the curtains pulled tight in front of the windows. There are no words sung, but it doesn’t matter, because they both already know the song by heart. Steve can hear the murmur of Bucky’s voice as he hums the lyrics under his breath next to Steve’s ear, and Steve nuzzles his nose into Bucky’s hair, squeezing him tight.

_“Run when church bells ring,”_ Bucky whispers, and Steve can hear the smile in his voice as clearly as he feels it press against his cheek. _“It could happen to you.”_

_“All I did was wonder how your arms would be,”_ Steve hums back, which makes Bucky snort out an amused laugh against his skin. The sound quickly morphs into something else, however; something wet and thick that makes the air catch in Steve’s throat. As Steve presses a kiss against Bucky’s temple, Bucky hides his face in the crock of Steve’s neck with a muffled sniff of his nose, and Steve mouths the final words of the lyrics against his skin – silent, like a prayer:

_And it happened to me_

God, they had waited so long for this, hadn't they? Who would have thought back then, that they’d eventually get to have this? _Like_ this? No closed curtains, or blacked-out rooms, just them, surrounded by people who look at them with tenderness and joy rather than disgust and hate.

It finally happened to them. At long last.

There is applause coming from around them when they slow to a halt, but Steve barely hears it as he tips Bucky’s chin up to press a soft, heartfelt kiss against his husband’s lips. He can taste salt on Bucky’s skin, but when he pulls away, Bucky’s smiling back at him, and that’s really all that matters.

Once the dance is over, the official program of the wedding reception basically reaches its end, and it doesn’t take long before the party picks up pace. Tony and Pepper break in the dance floor along with Scott, who dances with Cassie balancing on top of his shoes, albeit a bit off rhythm.

Somehow, Steve ends up in a conversation with T’Challa and Peter Parker regarding the development of the new Wakandan Student Exchange Program with the United States, while Bucky talks to Clint about helping him finish the wooden structure of the new patio roof he’s currently building.

After a while, the Barton kids persuade Cassie to help them raid what’s left of the coconut cake; a heist that’s rudely interrupted by Bruce as he catches them sneaking around the buffet table. This, in turn, initiates an enthusiastic game of tag that goes around the table formation for at least three laps, before sending all children collapsing behind the hay bales in peals of laughter while Bruce turns his back, pretending to have lost sight of them entirely.  

Steve has absolutely no idea when exactly the sun decided to set outside, or when Laura dipped out to put the children to bed, but before he knows it, it’s past midnight, and he’s leaning against Bucky’s left shoulder while trying to hide a yawn behind the back of his hand.

“Tired?” Bucky murmurs while placing a kiss against his brow, and Steve nods, still yawning.

“I think I’m gonna need another seventy years on ice after this,” he announces groggily while blinking blearily at the candle in front of him.

“We can leave if you want,” Bucky offers. “We’ve fulfilled our duties here for tonight, I think.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

Predictably enough, when they announce that they’re calling it a night, they’re rewarded with more than just a few catcalls and crude jokes. Mostly from Tony, of course, but also from Thor, whose encouraging suggestions actually manage to make the tips of Bucky’s ears turn pink.

They say goodnight to the friends that are still awake (Fury and Maria left several hours ago, and Clint is already snoring soundly on top of the hay bales when they get up from the table), and vigorously promise Laura to help clean up tomorrow. Predictably, she tells them not to worry about it, and soon enough, Steve and Bucky are making their way back to the house with their arms affectionately slung around each other’s waists.

“You still wanna give that whole threshold thing a go?” Steve asks when they reach the front door, and Bucky snickers, pushing the door open.

“Nah,” he decides. “We’d just wake the kids up when you trip on the doormat and drop me on my ass.”

“Good,” Steve counters, while following Bucky into the hallway. “You’ve put on weight lately anyway, so I’m just glad I won’t have to deal with that.”

“Watch it,” Bucky warns him grimly, only to snicker as he reaches out and pulls Steve in by the tie to give him an ardent kiss right on the lips.

They don’t have to go upstairs, seeing as the guest room is on the bottom floor, and once they’re inside, Steve feels a rush of something akin to relief wash through his veins as he closes the door behind them.

“Wow, what a day, huh?” Bucky says from the other end of the room, and when Steve turns around, Bucky’s already managed to shrug out of his suit jacket and is in the process of sliding the tie out from underneath his collar. “I’m totally beat.”

“Yeah, it’s been quite an event,” Steve agrees. He watches Bucky as the other strips out of his clothes, safe for his underwear, and how he then flops onto the bed with an exhausted groan.

“You’re just gonna stand there?” Bucky asks pointedly, and Steve shrugs as he brings his hands up to undo the knot of his tie.

He follows Bucky’s example, with the exception that he actually takes the time to hang the suits up, starting with Bucky’s.

“You’re taking too long,” Bucky complains from the mattress while Steve brushes the lingering dirt from the tractor wheel of the back of his own suit. His impatience makes Steve smirk, rolling his eyes as he drapes the jacket over the back of the chair by the desk.

“Hurry up,” Bucky orders, “Chop chop, before my hair turns grey.”

“I think you have about another ten to twenty years to go before that happens,” Steve says confidently as he goes to turn the lights off, hearing Bucky huff at him through the dark that layers itself over the room as Steve flips the light switch.

Steve doesn’t have to feel his way to the bed – thank you, supersoldier-senses – and as he joins Bucky on the mattress, Bucky immediately drapes the covers over them both, before curling himself around Steve’s body.

“Are you happy?” Steve asks softly, kissing Bucky’s brow and peppering his cheeks and lips with soft little kisses in the dark.

“Guess,” Bucky mumbles back, words coming out muffled against Steve’s mouth.

Steve laughs, and he wraps both of his arms around Bucky’s shoulders when Bucky drops his head against his chest with a sigh. “We’re married now,” he says softly. “Like actually _married_ , can you believe it?”

“No,” Bucky confesses. “I’m still scared I’ll wake up tomorrow and find out it’s all just been a dream. Makes me not wanna fall asleep at all.”

“Then don’t,” Steve says, and Bucky hums, snuggling closer.

“Uh-huh, and what do you suggest we do instead of sleeping then?”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” Steve says confidently. “Twenty questions is supposedly a good way to pass time, I hear.”

“Yeah, you’d get off on that, wouldn’t ya?” Bucky quips, and Steve laughs, kissing him again. Bucky sighs as he lets Steve coax his lips apart with his tongue, and when Steve deepens the kiss, Bucky rocks his hips against the top of Steve’s thigh, slowly turning more insistent.  

“I thought you said you were beat?” Steve whispers.

“Newsflash, sweetheart,” Bucky grumbles, “If there’s one thing I’m never too tired for, it’s a good roll between the sheets.”

“Then why didn’t you just say so?” Steve teases. Before Bucky gets the chance to answer, Steve decisively worms his hand down the front of Bucky’s boxer briefs while kissing across the five-o’clock shadow on his jawline and neck. He feels Bucky’s breath stutter when he drags his teeth over the other man’s pulsepoint, and Steve quickly rolls over to lie down on top of him, pressing Bucky into the mattress.

“Steve,” Bucky moans as he fumbles his hands up the span of Steve’s arms, and Steve sure doesn’t have to be called on twice.

He kisses Bucky again, delving into his mouth with a hunger that sends his stomach whirling as he rocks his hips down over Bucky’s own. They grind against each other, slowly, lazy, breathing each other in and drinking up the glimpses of naked skin illuminated by the moonlight sifting in through the blinds in front of the window.

It’s okay. They have the time. They have all the time…

By the time Bucky finally begins to worm out of his underwear, they’re both physically trembling, and as Steve kicks his shorts off, Bucky grabs him around the hip to pull him flush against his own skin, gasping and pressing hot against each other’s stomachs.

It’s a slow burn, and the fire throbs through Steve’s veins until his vision literally clouds over with it. It’s making them sweat and gasp where they are, throbbing hard as fingers dig into skin harsh enough to leave white prints behind as the hands slip lower, gripping tighter.

Steve’s shifts his hold on Bucky’s ass to grasp around the back of his thigh instead, bringing it up and pressing it against the side of his own ribs for leverage. As he searches out Bucky’s eyes amongst the shadows, he feels the cool of Bucky’s left-hand fingers come up to brush against the side of his face in a touch so tender it sends Steve’s heart beating of rhythm inside his chest. Steve responds by immediately pressing his lips against the inside of Bucky’s metal wrist with an open-mouthed sigh, body quaking with a need that threatens to burn right through him when Bucky’s body rolls against his. He drops his head down onto Bucky’s shoulder with a shaky groan of Bucky's name, and Bucky’s hands promptly find their way into his hair, carding through and tugging at it gently.

“Steve..” Bucky breathes, voice trembling. “Oh, Stevie…”

Steve feels the urgent scrape of fingernail against his scalp, right before Bucky lets the hand drop to clutch around the curve of his shoulders with a gasp, pulling him close. Their hips stutter, jerking hard, and then Bucky grows taut beneath Steve’s body as he arches his back with a broken moan while slick heat spills over both of their stomachs.

Steve feels himself slip over Bucky’s abs as he makes a final, frantic thrust, and then Steve’s coming as well, hard and shaking in Bucky’s arms.

They kiss as they come down, breath cooling the sweat on their skin as it evens out into a steady rise and fall of ins and outs once more. Yet, even as they lie there, caught in the trembling afterglow of their pleasure, Steve can’t stop feeling as if they’re still making love to one another.

“I love you, baby,” Bucky suddenly whispers, so quietly Steve probably wouldn’t have even registered it if he hadn’t been able to feel the movements of the other man’s mouth.

“I love you more,” Steve replies, and as he spreads a trail of kisses over Bucky’s neck and jaw, Bucky lets out a breathless laugh to the ceiling.

“Always gotta be the worst, huh?”

“ _You’re_ the worst,” Steve retorts affectionately, chuckling under his breath as he feels the smile on Bucky’s lips when Bucky pulls him down for yet another kiss.

As if Steve would ever tire of him doing that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [ Here's the song Steve and Bucky danced to.](https://youtu.be/vQVe27o0IIM) It's called "It could happen to you" and is sung by Jo Stafford.
> 
> It has quickly become on of my favorite Stucky songs from that era, and I swear I teared up so hard when i first heard it. I hope you'll like it too  <3 
> 
> Happy Birthday again, D <3 I love you!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, guys <3  
> Feel free to let me know what you thought of the story.  
> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://chiyume.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/chiyume87), should you want to talk there instead.  
> I respond to all messages as soon as I get the time, and I love talking to people, so please don't hesitate to write me <3


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